


Kicking and Screaming

by shimotsuki



Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Genre: Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-19
Updated: 2011-01-19
Packaged: 2017-10-14 21:49:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/153807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shimotsuki/pseuds/shimotsuki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ivan has a secret, and Gregor has found it out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kicking and Screaming

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zortified (james)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/james/gifts).



“How about if I, um, get you another cup of punch?” asked Ivan brightly.

The pretty young thing on his arm—what was her name? ah, yes, Marina, that was it—tilted her head to one side. “Ivan, you’ve brought me two cups of punch already.”

Dammit. He’d gone and made her suspicious, and he didn’t have _time_ —

Marina extricated her hand from the crook of his uniformed elbow and started to cross her arms in exasperation. Ivan winced, seeing disaster coming, but she remembered her fragile ball gown at the last second, and her fists landed on her hips instead.

Now she looked disturbingly like Olivia Koudelka in a snit.

Or maybe like his mother.

Fortunately, Ivan simply didn’t have the leisure to dwell on such unsettling images. Not when he had an escape to pull off.

“That’s...because it’s so warm in here.” He gave her a smile carefully calculated to be dashing and bold, but not too forward. “Perhaps we could go for a walk in the gardens. Enjoy some nice evening air.” He captured her gloved hand and returned it to its proper place on his arm, and started across the room.

Marina kept pace with him, but her eyebrows drew together. Ivan didn’t dare start walking faster; she’d probably try to pull away and make some kind of scene. He could only pray he was already walking fast enough.

“Lord Ivan.” The quiet voice sounded right behind him.

Okay, not fast enough. At all.

Ivan swallowed, turned, and smiled again—his best innocent boyish smile, this time.

“Sire. Um. Do you know Miss Marina Vorkovacs?”

Marina curtseyed, looking graceful and pleasant now, rather than like someone who might lead an uprising against her poor, underappreciated (not to mention insufficiently inebriated) escort. “Good evening, sire.”

“Good evening, Miss Vorkovacs.” Gregor’s own smile was reserved, but not unkind. “Is your mother feeling better these days?”

Marina brightened further. “Yes, thank you. She will be honored to hear that you’ve asked after her health.”

“I wonder if I could impose for just a moment, and borrow Lord Ivan? I’ll return him to you as soon as I can.”

“Oh, that’s fine.” Marina shrugged. “Some of my friends are here—I’ll just go and find them.” She curtseyed again and sailed away, full skirts fluttering behind her.

Ivan frowned. This was simply unbelievable. She’d been annoying all evening, and she hadn’t even helped him hide from Gregor. Was just one little backward glance of longing and regret too much to ask for, as she made a beeline for—God help him, it really was—Olivia Koudelka’s little group?

This evening hadn’t gone well. At _all._

And Ivan _really_ didn’t like the looks of the glint in Gregor’s eye.

“We need to talk,” said Gregor levelly. “Byerly Vorrutyer has apprised me fully of your role in the...events...of last week.”

“Is that so?” asked Ivan, with smile number three—the foolish-puppy smile. His special secret weapon.

“It is.” Gregor raised an eyebrow and looked right past that smile. For the first time.

Dammit.

Ivan was really in for it now, if he was starting to get a reputation for _competence._

~ _fin_ ~


End file.
